


Marks on the Barricade

by daisybrien



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Medical Care, Medical Procedures, Mild Gore, Serious Injuries, care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all have scars. Sometimes it's impossible to hide them. (For EruriWeek)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marks on the Barricade

Levi doesn’t know what possesses him to come to his room, the air stale and musty, the blinds drawn closed over the glaring sun and burying the room into silent shadow. He grimaces, watching dust catch what little light seeps from the window as it drifts through the air slowly, wants to run out of the room and swap his medical kit for a broom and duster. But his eyes settle on the bed in front of him, the vulnerable, still form seeming to tug at his chest, one foot gradually stepping over the threshold before he finds himself at the foot of the mattress.

He drops the medical kit in his hands onto the foot of the bed, a soft flump breaking the pregnant silence in the room. The body shifts in bed, a drained face twitching at the sudden change, so pale it almost blends into the fabric of the pillow it rests on. Levi pulls up a chair, lifting it so the legs don’t scratch along the floor, for once not just because he is sick of seeing scratches on the hardwood. His hands slowly lift the quilt, folding it over meticulously, revealing a bandaged stump beneath.

It takes a minute for Levi’s nimble fingers to undo the knot of Erwin’s bandages, the strength and slightest length to his nails working open the tight tangles of the fabric. His fingertips dance their way over it, slowly unraveling each piece layer by layer, letting it cascade to the floor at his feet. With gentle hands he reveals the skin underneath, first just a patch of red peeking in between the spaces of the bandages, gradually growing as he continues to lift it off, hands moving rhythmically around the limb in front of him. When the pressure bandages have been lifted, leaving nothing but a dizzying patchwork of bloody gauze, he stops.

“It’s not going to look good.”

The words are nothing more than a wheeze, drawn out in a soft groan. The voice is hoarse, gravelly. Levi almost jolts at the horrid sound. He raises his head, taking his eyes off the stump in front of him, meeting Erwin’s stare.

It’s the first time Erwin has opened his eyes since the accident, his body too exhausted to have even spared the slightest bit of energy on the smallest of actions. He looks over at Levi with heavily lidded eyes, dark half moons sunken underneath the sockets. His face is drawn, the usual flush skin pale and dry as parchment, pulled over the bone like paper. Stubble peppers his chin, adding another layer of haggardness to the poor man’s face. 

“I can make that judgment for myself,” Levi says firmly. His nails peel back the edge of the bandage slowly, gently, eyes searching Erwin’s face for any sign of pain; he had turned away from him, closing his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, the tendons in his neck sticking out like wires under the skin.

“Why isn’t someone from the medical wing here?” Erwin gasps out. His thick brow furrows, wrinkles that belonged to the aged and dying working their way into his face.

“Because they can’t be,” Levi spits. “You need your bandages changed. I showed up first.”

“I don’t-“ Erwin murmurs, his chest heaving with the effort. His tongue runs its way over his chapped lips, the muscles in his throat flexing. “I don’t want you to be here.”

“Well you need me here,” Levi says. “So you’re going to have to deal with it.” He knows Erwin is lying, in a sense; his first and only emotional reflex seemed to be closing himself in, making himself a stoic, impenetrable wall to keep anyone who threatened to chip away at his cold exterior out of his life and his care. It was something many of them did, something Levi did himself, a simple and easy defense in keeping the emotional scars at bay. But for Erwin, it was a wonderfully terrifying thing to witness, a meek act of kindness enough for his walls to spring up around him – the simplest cup of tea placed on his desk after a hard day at work would have his eyes growing cold, his chest puffing out large and strong, his voice severe and commandeering. Underneath the exterior were the same needs as any other human, an aching for the touch and care of another a longing so rarely shown yet always there in the back of his mind, impossible but essential to accommodate.

In his state, he doesn’t have the same effect as always, his words wobbling and unsure. He doesn’t have the energy to grow cold, too weak to force any strength into his voice, too needing to reject the care offered him when he knows that he won’t be able to last the week without it. The only thing he can do is turn his face to the ceiling, away from Levi, the lack of eye contact the only barrier between them; his mask is transparent and crumbling, scarred by the recent trauma, and Levi can see the aching heart of the fragile man underneath.

So he stays, not just out of Erwin’s necessity but also of his comfort, fingers working off the bandage. Erwin winces, his eyes drawn to Levi’s less than expert handiwork, hissing between his teeth.

“Sorry,” Levi murmurs, shaking his head as he watches Erwin’s face twist in pain. He tries to be gentler, barely brushing the screaming skin underneath. He sees the edges of Erwin’s stitches start to surface, thick string holding bloody skin and sinew together in a tenuous, fragile hold. Levi’s stomach twists deep in his bowels.

Erwin turns his head away from the mess, leaving Levi to stare at the back of his head. Levi feels him tremble under his hands, the skin of his face that he can see before Erwin darts his head away paling an even starker shade of white. 

“Do you need me to cover it up for you?” Levi asks. He’s surprised by Erwin’s behavior, knowing the man had seen many a comrade torn apart, most of them ending up so by his own orders. Levi bites down that thought, pressing his lips together before it threatens to slip out of him; it is not the time for sarcasm, nor appropriate to diminish the seriousness of his pain. It must be the agony setting in, or maybe the shock, now that adrenaline had all but washed itself out of Erwin’s body.

“Please Levi,” Erwin chokes out shakily. He can see Erwin’s chest start to heave, hear the thickness in his voice. “I don’t want you to see my scars.”

“You say that like I haven’t seen them before,” Levi says. 

It’s true, they both know; he had seen the welts from gear etched onto his pale skin, had counted the white lines crisscrossing over his chest in bed, and with a sly smirk had refused to apologize for the red marks down his shoulders and back after a rough fuck. He had seen them haunting him, his eyes like fractured glass after an expedition, had been given the rare chance to peek behind his walls ever so slightly during the nights where howling winds and screaming minds had kept the two far from peaceful sleep. There were the ones of rust over old, broken gear that could have resulted in a broken neck, the ones etched in scribbled ink over frustrating declarations of budgets and wage cuts, the weathered cracks in the tombstone standing sentinel over the empty lot where they pretend his father lies peaceful in the ground. There are ones scattered over the floor in broken gin glasses and rare tears, the ones screaming through the air in passionate curses and insults that lashed at each other, leaving their mark as frustrating and furious silences for days on end before one would give in and apologize. He had revealed his own scars to Erwin and had built the trust to let him break down his walls, even if for just a minute or behind closed doors in hot, dark rooms in the night, and he wasn’t going to let him cover those scars against him again because of some damn revelation on Erwin’s part of their inconvenient mortality.

Levi pulls off the rest of the bandage against Erwin’s protests, only slowing when Erwin lets out a hiccough of pain, revealing the entirety of the wound, the bloody stump all that was left of his right arm. He rummages through the kit, pulling out a cloth and a jug of water, wiping around the stump, grazing over the scars there.

Erwin jolts with the touch, groaning, the sinews of his neck pushing out underneath the skin. Levi shushes him, his other hand moving to Erwin’s chest, bracing him against the bed. He moves the hand in slow circles, an attempt to soothe, feeling Erwin calm under his palm before growing still and exhausted in the bed.

“It’s over,” Levi says, giving the stump a few more brushes before throwing the cloth over the headboard to dry. “Quick and painless. Nothing to worry about.”

He lets go of Erwin, settling back into his chair. He shuffles through the medical bag again for bandages, beginning to tape them over each zigzagging line of stitches, meticulous in ensuring they stick on flat and cover every bit of the wound. His movements are slow and gradual, the room falling into stifling silence only to be punctuated by the occasional rip and sifting of fabric. Once the first layer of gauze has been taped on, a mosaic of overlapping layers soaking the last bits of blood too stubborn to clot, he pulls out another roll, the usual long, winding strip of white, and begins to roll it around the stump in dizzying circles. 

He reaches the end of the strip, wrapping it around the upper most layer before tying it into a knot strong enough to curse the medic for making it so tight the first time. The mess of damaged skin is covered now, the new wounds invisible to the worried eye, another mask to the scars marking his body and soul and mind. 

He expects Erwin to look back once it is covered, another affirmation that his limitations are hidden from the world, or simply keeping a nauseating sight from his eyes. When he looks up from the stark white cloth and pale skin, he is still only met with the blonde bristles of Erwin’s undercut, the curvature of his ear arcing up like a wave; he clicks his teeth, reaching over with nimble fingers to turn his face to look at him, feeling the ocean flooding his hollow cheeks and dampening the pillow underneath. 

Levi gets up from his seat, leaning over Erwin; his thumb brushes the wetness away, his arm running over the puddles forming in the fabric of the bed sheets. Erwin tries to resist his nudge, but his strength is nonexistent, his head snapping to look up at Levi. His face his hard as always, scratching through the dregs of his dignity to put up what little defense he can muster, but there are still dents in the façade, rivers streaming from his closed eyes down into the cracks of his nose, down his temple, chest heaving.

Levi’s sturdy hand moves to steady his trembling chest, Erwin’s remaining hand darting up to grab it. Levi is almost surprised at the gesture; he was actually reaching out, broken his own barricade to seek him out, and Levi can feel the inkling of one of his own scars forming in the warmth of Erwin’s hand over his. 

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Levi whispers. He leans down, lips pressing a chaste kiss into the sweaty skin of Erwin’s forehead. He can feel Erwin’s breath on his neck, the smallest sigh of comfort tickling raising goose bumps in his skin as his muscles relax and he sinks deeper into the stiff mattress.

“Try and sleep,” Levi says, straightening up. He slowly relinquishes his grasp, hand trailing behind him as he moves back to his seat, packing up the items of the medical kit strewn across the bed. He sets the room up back as he had left it, lifting his chair back in place, tucking the sheets up to Erwin’s chin, dumping the excess water into the wilting plant by the window drawn shut by the other end of the room. 

His fingers brush through Erwin’s blond hair, greasy strands pushing beneath his fingers. He watches his face relax, breath evening out as exhaustion claims him, even as he tries to give his reply. A simple, longing stare from him is enough for Levi, who brushes the tacky skin of Erwin’s hot forehead with the back of his hand as he watches his eyes close. He falls asleep as Levi slips out of the room as though he weren’t given the privilege to witness Erwin Smith show the true colours of the very human man underneath.


End file.
